Pirate Princess
by mockingjay1819
Summary: The curse never came. Lost in the defeat of Regina and the announcement of her sister Emeline's engagement and pregnancy, Princess Emma lives her life with a sole wish to be recognized and loved by her family. When Emma decides to run away from her royal life, she finds herself disguised as a common wench kidnapped on a pirate ship, facing the adventure of her lifetime.
1. Chapter 1

The castle gardens were always the most beautiful at midday. The sun's rays slipped through the tree's branches, creating a path of light that decorated the grass. The flowers danced in the wind, swaying slightly to an unsung tune.

Dendrobrium orchids were her favorite. White with purple tips and outlines, the flower was small, small enough to fit into her palm comfortably. It was simple, but beautiful, and her favorite part was the gold bulb in the center. It was partially closed, only open slightly so one can glimpse inside and merely wonder what other treasures lie inside.

Emma was a dendrobrium orchid, beautiful on the outside and undiscovered on the inside. Her long, golden locks, so like her sister's, were enough to catch anyone's attention, and if her hair didn't ensnare the heart, then her bright green eyes did. However beautiful she was, she was pushed to the side, forgotten by the kingdom and often, it felt, by her family as well. Emma was still a product of True Love, and she always would be, but she was no leader like her parents or no perfect princess like Emeline. She was just Emma, the youngest daughter of Queen Snow and King David and the little sister of the woman who saved the kingdom from a war with the Evil Queen.

"Emma," a voice called out softly. Her eyes drifted up, spotting her mother standing under the shade of a tree near the garden's gate, but she made no effort to stand. Deep down, she knew it was improper and it went against all of the lessons she learned from her tutors, but thinking through plans had never been a strong suit of Emma's. "You're almost an hour late for your lessons."

"I already know history, Mother," Emma sighed, twisting the flower in her hand.

"You never really know history," her mother pointed out, and Emna suppressed another sigh. "You weren't there when it happened, and so you can never truly know all of it. The only history you know is your own, and even if you know something, you may not understand it."

"If we don't know if it's true, then why bother learning it?"

Snow chewed the corner of her red bottom lip thoughtfully before laughing lightly. She stepped closer to her daughter, smoothing her dress out as she took a seat on the bench next to Emma. "You have a point, my dear. You know, I was never fond of history either."

Emma cracked a smile as Snow nudged her with her shoulder gently. Her eyes, however, never left the flower.

"What's wrong, Emma? You've been acting differently ever since Regina was defeated." Snow waited, but after realizing Emma wasn't going to answer her, she added, "You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

More silence.

Snow shifted slightly. "It isn't about Emeline's and Baelfire's recent news, is it? About the baby?"

"No, Mother. It's not about the baby. Or the wedding. Or the end of the Evil Queen."

"Then what is it?" Snow asked gently, resting her hand on Emeline's arm.

Emma shrugged, still twirling the flower. "Recently, I've decided that I want more than studies and princess manner lessons. I want to become skilled in swords, like Father, and I want to learn archery like you."

"You don't need to learn weaponry to be a good leader though."

"Yes, but Emeline knows them. Baelfire knows them. Everyone seems to know them except for me. If I was a commoner, I think that maybe I'd be more likely to learn more than I do now!"

Snow furrowed her eyebrows. "You don't like being a princess?"

"No, I do. But I just want to feel-. Mom, I just want to feel special." Snow looked confused, so Emma decided to elaborate, twirling the flower even faster in her fingertips. "Look, Mom. You and Dad are such brave warriors and wise rulers, and you have a love story that everyone in all the kingdoms know. Emeline is the hero of the realm, complete with magic, a man she loves, and a baby to come. And then I'm just… here," Emma shrugged.

"Emma," her mother sighed. "You know you're special to us- your family."

"Yes, but who else?" she interrupted her mother. "The kingdom already has a successor in Emeline and will soon have an heir in her son."

"But how does that concern you?"

"I'm not important, Mom!" Emma burst out. Snow looked taken aback at her daughter's outburst.

"How long did it take you to realize that I was late for a lesson? When one of my maids informed you? When the tutor left muttering about wasting his time?"

Snow stayed silent while Emma cooled down, taking deep breaths to soothe her heart rate. She regretted her outburst ever since it happened, but she knew she couldn't take it back now, no matter how much she wanted to.

"How long have you felt like this?"

There was complete silence except for the ruffle of Emma's dress as she stood up and turned away from her mother, the orchid slowly drifting towards the floor.

"Too long."

* * *

When Emma woke up, she was still in her dress, but her curls were more tangled than they were before she had passed out in her bed. She sighed heavily, letting her head hit the pillow once more as she slammed back into it. She could feel the dried tear-stains on her cheeks, and she cursed herself once more for letting her mother in like that. Now her father probably knew how she felt, as well as Emeline and Baelfire. Hell, the entire castle most likely found out about her breakdown.

A knock on the door interrupted Emma from her thoughts, and she cracked an eye open to see one of her maids, Aria, enter the room, her arms full from carrying a book, hairbrush, and tray.

"Your highness, are you awake?" Aria asked tentatively. Emma heard the brush and book being placed on the table next to her, and she shifted in bed to answer Aria's question. "Your parents sent me with food."

Emma's eyes opened farther at the mention of food, and she made to sit up so that her back was resting against her pillows. Aria giggled, and Emma glanced at her, asking the question with raised eyes as Aria stifled her laugh with the back of her hand.

"I'm sorry, princess. Your hair just looks, well, like a mess," Aria explained.

Emma smiled softly. Aria had been Emna's personal maid ever since both girls were fifteen. Emma sought confidence in Aria, and she often went to the servant for advice; she was the closest Emma had to a real friend.

"I guess it does. I suppose that's what the brush is for?"

Aria nodded, smirking mischievously at her. "I know you too well, m'lady. I've served you for almost ten years."

"It's been nine, Aria. And you're more than a servant to me. You surely must know that by now."

"Yes, Miss, but your birthday is in a week. And then it would have been ten," Aria answered back cheekily, laughing as Emma scrunched up her nose and held out her hand for the tray. "I was told to bring you your dinner."

Emma stared at the plate, her mouth watering at the sight of the sight of the lemon-flavored chicken breast surrounded by an assortment of vegetables. She hadn't realized she was so hungry until now, and with a start, it hit her that she had skipped lunch to spend some alone time in the garden that afternoon. She picked up the knife and fork, flicking a piece of hair over her shoulder so that it wouldn't get in her way. "Did they think that they could make amends with me by letting me eat my meal in bed?" Emma asked, slicing the tender meat with her knife.

Aria didn't answer at first, and Emma looked up from her meal to see the girl shifting from foot to foot, wringing her hands nervously. "Something like that, m'lady."

"Aria, what's wrong?" Emma asked, setting down the knife and work but still keeping her fingers wrapped around the two utensils. "Aria, tell me, please," she added, still sensing that her friend was hesitating.

"They've already eaten, princess," Aria finally blurted out, keeping her eyes trained on her feet. "The King and Queen dined about an hour ago with Princess Emeline, Prince Baelfire, and King Rumple."

"They didn't think to wake me and call me down?" Emma could feel the anger starting to build within her, though she couldn't tell exactly where the anger was originating from.

"I'm sure they just wanted to give you time to rest and think," Aria tried to supply. Emma shook her head in frustration.

"Well, I'm done thinking," she said, slamming her knife and fork against the table, the chicken still half-sliced. She placed the tray next to her and slung the blanket off of her body, allowing her to swing her legs over the side of her bed. "Aria, fetch me a satchel."

"May I ask why, m'lady?" Aria asked, her voice raising an octave due to the concern at Emma's blank stare and red-sparked eyes. She took a step towards the closet but made no definitive movement to follow through with Emma's order.

"I'm leaving. Tonight. Aria, the bag, please," Emma requested once more, standing up out of bed and grabbing the book and brush that her maid had previously laid on her nightstand.

"Leaving!?" Aria proclaimed, abandoning her orders and choosing instead to step towards Emma and grab the girl's arm lightly. "Princess, please think this through."

"Like I said, Aria, I'm done thinking. Clearly I'm not wanted here, and it's obvious that my family can get by perfectly fine without me. Where's the bag?"

Aria's face flickered with confusion and concern. After a long stare-down with the princess, Aria closed her eyes and let out a defeated sigh, loosening her grip on Emma's arm before releasing it completely. Quietly, she made her way over to the closet and rummaged a bit before emerging with a small satchel big enough to fit a few personal belongings. She handed it to Emma, keeping her head cast down.

Emma stuffed the brush and book into the bag before shaking it around a bit to see how much room she had left. Upon further thought, she went to her medicine cabinet and cast some different herbs and ointments into the bag as well. She glanced up at Aria to see the maid watching her thoughtfully, chewing on her bottom lip in concentration.

"What is it, Aria? I can tell you wish to say something."

"I suppose I can't talk you out of this, can I, princess?" she sighed sadly.

Emma stood straighter and walked in front of Aria so that the girl felt forced to look at her. "My mind is made up, Aria. Perhaps my family will realize what they had once it's lost."

Aria nodded slowly before straightening her posture as well. "Well then I suppose I should help you, considering that I may lose my post after you disappear." Aria walked over to the closet again, rifling through Emma's clothes before pulling out an old cloak, one that was still fit for a princess but more subtle. She would catch less attention walking around in this than she would one of her newer and flashier cloaks. "Change out of that dress and into something a little plainer, Miss, and then throw this cloak over. I will help you sneak into a nearby village and acquaintance you with a friend of mine. She works at an inn there, and I'm sure she would be willing to help you find a room and some commoner clothes to disguise you."

Emma nodded before scurrying to the bathroom to change into her new dress and cloak. When she returned, Aria was wearing a worn cloak as well, holding Emma's riding boots in one hand and her packed satchel in the other. "I took the liberty of throwing some bread and cheese in here as well, along with some spare paper and a pen. You never know when penmanship may come in handy."

"Thank you, Aria," Emma said. She reached for the bag, and their hands brushed. Aria smiled sadly at her princess and friend before pulling up the hood of her cloak and motioning for Emma to do the same. The two women then left the room, Emma turning one last time at the doorway to drink in the sight of her bedroom, of her bed, of her desk, of her tapestries and clothes, before closing her eyes and sighing deeply, closing the door on her past life.


	2. Chapter 2

"Amelia said she would try to sneak away in a few minutes," Aria said as she reentered the room, lowering the hood of her cloak as the door shut gently behind her. It had taken Emma and her maid nearly eight hours to ride to the closest village outside of Queen Snow's and King David's kingdom. While most here knew the royal family by name, not many would recognize the princess on sight alone, especially not in her ripped cloak and bland dress. Emma felt comfortable that she could start her escape from here. "M'lady, you're-. You're absolutely sure about this?"

Emma straightened her spine, her gaze never leaving the window. She must look everything like a princess, from the perfect posture to the gentle hands resting over one another in her lap as she stared at the world on the other side of the glass. From the view of her room, Emma could see the villagers walking back and forth, completing chores and stopping every once in a while to hold a pleasant, or not so pleasant, conversation with another townsperson. She could see the tops of the white sails of the ships in the docks peeking over the roofs of the low buildings as well.

"Yes," she whispered, but Aria heard her princess loud and clear, and the servant-girl knew in her heart that this would be Emma's final answer.

"Very well," Aria replied, playing with the loose strands that frayed from her cloak's arm. Due to habit and from years of being a maid, she instinctively released the strays and wiped her palms on her skirt, a soothing and comforting task that Aria considered to almost be a stress release for her. She opened her mouth to reply but closed it when she realized she had nothing substantial to say.

The creaking of the door opening broke the sound of the silence that had conjured in the room, and both girls whipped around to see a slim female with frizzy brown hair sneaking through the small crack in the door.

"So sorry I'm late," the girl said with an airy laugh, bolting the door behind her before turning around to face the two visitors. "I got away as soon as I could."

"Oh, it's no issue at all, Mia," Aria reassured, stepping forward and taking her friend's hand in hers, squeezing lightly. She brought her forward a few steps until both were standing a few feet away from a very curious, but otherwise silent, Emma. "Amelia, this is Princess Emma of Misthaven."

Mia dropped into a low curtsy, her head bowing respectfully. "M'lady."

"Please, it's Emma now. I'm no longer a princess here."

Amelia nodded, the grin never leaving her face. Emma felt like she was normally a happy person, and she felt a flood of relief course through her knowing that this energetic girl was going to be her companion once Aria left to return to the castle.

"Mia, we need your help," Aria spoke up, the formalities done.

Mia pressed her lips together before nodding her head once, slowly, almost seeming to read the plea and utter desperation in her friend's eyes. "Let me go get us some food and drinks first. You both must be exhausted from your travels." Mia grabbed a handful of her skirts in one hand before leaving the room only to return moments later with a tray laden with bread, nuts, a full pitcher, and three empty glasses. "Here we are. I trust you like the room?" Mia asked, placing the loaded tray on a nearby stand, which she then proceeded to drag into the middle of the room so that the three women could sit around it.

"Yes, it's lovely. Thank you for finding us an empty room at the inn on such short notice," Emma responded, inclining her head politely as a form of thanks. Hesitantly, she reached across the tray and grabbed a thin slice of bread. She lifted it to her nose and sniffed lightly; it smelled fresh and warm. She closed her eyes as she felt her stomach rumble with desire. Aria and Emma had finished nearly all of the bread and cheese on the journey to the inn, and Emma was saving whatever was left of her food for an emergency.

Mia nodded, smiling brightly once again. "So how may I help you two?"

With a final glance and nod at Emma, Aria launched into the story of how Emma left home, leaving out some details to spare some of the princess' pride. Mia stayed quiet throughout the entire story, her attention undivided.

"So, will you be able to help Emma blend in here and make sure she's on her way safely?"

Mia nodded energetically once again, so enthusiastically that Emma was worried for a second that Mia would get whiplash if she continued the motion any longer. Feeling the need to contribute to the conversation, Emma spoke up. "I have money. All I really need is guidance. I don't really get out of the palace that much back at home. And I can pay you for your help."

The bushy-haired waitress dismissed her suggestion with a wave of her hand. "Nonsense. Any friend of Aria's is a friend of mine. I'm happy to help a friend," she reassured, offering Emma a cordial smirk. "It seems we need new clothes the most?"

Aria nodded, drawing her bottom lip between her teeth in contemplation. "Probably a new cloak as well. And she'll need another horse. Her mare right now practically screams royalty, and she's too tired for another long journey on top of that. Don't worry, Miss, I'll get her back to the castle stables safely," Aria directed at Emma. The princess agreed with a single nod of her head, even though it hurt to separate herself from her horse; the two had been together since both were young.

The rest of the plans were finalized, Aria and Mia making most of the conversation while Emma sat nearby, her gaze glued to the world on the other side of the window once more.

"Emma," a voice interrupted her once more, and she snapped her gaze over to see Mia and Aria starting to stand. Mia was clearing the tray, and Aria was pulling on the hood of her cloak once again, tugging it so that it covered her hair and the majority of her face.

"Is this it?" Emma asked, tucking a bit of stray hair behind her ear as she almost shyly stood up from her seat near the window.

Aria's lips lifted into a small but sad smile, and she nodded lightly, her eyes watering slightly. "I'm afraid so, M'lady. I'm going to miss you." Emma noticed that Mia, whether she meant to or not, had turned away from the pair to busy herself in order to allow them to have a proper and private goodbye.

With a small smile, Emma reached forward and tugged on her former maid's arm, pulling her into a hug. Aria didn't hesitate to tighten her hold around Emma's waist as the two embraced. Emma could feel wet droplets landing on her bare shoulder, and she could feel her own eyes watering at the prospect of leaving an old friend behind. With a heavy sigh, they pulled away from each other, Aria holding her friend at arm's length. "Good luck, Emma."

"And you as well. Please get home safely."

"I promise," Aria reassured, pulling her in for one last quick hug before repositioning the hood of her cloak once more and offering Mia a quick hug as well. Emma looked away, not finding the courage in her to watch the closest thing she had to a friend leave. She only heard the muffled goodbyes and the soft click as the door shut behind her.

* * *

"Emma, step out. We need to see the dress so that we can alter it if need be," Mia called out through the curtain that separated Emeline from the rest of the shop.

Emma didn't respond, distracted by her appearance in the full length mirror that was hanging delicately from the wall. Mia and the shopkeeper had thrown dress after dress over and under the curtain, and she felt like she'd been trying on dresses for hours. At last, she found one she liked, and it felt like she was staring at a whole new person, a free person. The dress was a light shade of blue on top that spanned across the corset and down the sleeves of her arms, which cut off just after her elbows. Where the corset ended, the bottom of her dress fanned out into a loose skirt that was the same shade of blue as the top. The dress as a whole was the perfect length, ending a hair past her ankles. It was fitting, and the corset hugged her midsection securely but comfortably, pushing her breasts up, forcing her to show a bit more cleavage than her mother usually condoned when it came to her palace attire. Emma quickly tied her hair up into a loose braid, letting it fall down her back and rest slightly in the middle, a couple of stray pieces escaping and landing along the sides of her face, the hair barely tickling her cheeks. Her outfit was topped off with a couple of flowers that she had braided into her hair so that they formed a crown of sorts.

She slowly placed her hands on her midriff, spreading out her fingers so that they spanned across the length of the corset, her thumbs brushing across the laces that tied it in the front.

The only jewelry she wore was a necklace with a single charm on it: a silver swan. The necklace had belonged to Emeline. Her sister had gifted it to her on her eighteenth birthday, saying that she would rather no one else where this necklace more than the one she loved most in the world. Her heart aching, Emma remembered that Emeline had said those words to her before she met and fell in love with Baelfire, before she announced her pregnancy. No, there would be no going back now for Emma, but she swore to herself she'd never part with this necklace. It was a reminder of her family, of what was once her loving home, her safe haven.

With a final nod and a deep breath, Emma pulled back the curtain and stepped out into the small shop, the ruffling of the fabric calling Mia's and the shopkeeper's attention towards her. Mia gave her an once-over and beamed while the shopkeeper nodded approvingly. "That's a lovely color on you," the woman declared, smiling warmly.

"Yes, I love that dress, Prin-. Emma! Lovely color!" Mia babbled. If the shopkeeper suspected anything about Mia's close slip-up, then it was overshadowed by the girl's enthusiasm. "I love that necklace as well! Were you wearing that all day?"

Emma nodded, not finding it in her willpower to speak, not after her recent memory about the necklace's history. Her hand rose to lightly grip the charm, the metal cold between her thumb and pointer finger.

"I guess it was hidden by the cloak then," Mia shrugged, her bright smile never dimming. If anything, it grew brighter, if that was even possible. "Do you want to try on another?" she asked, her head twitching in a gesture towards the racks of dresses.

Emma cleared her throat, glancing down at the commoner dress she now wore. "No, I think I can make do with just this one for now. Do you mind tossing out that old dress while I pay for this?"

Mia waved her hand, grabbing Emma's old garments and exiting the shop, leaving Emma alone with the middle-aged shopkeeper. She inquired about cloaks, and the woman handed Emma a bundle of folded garments. She picked one, a dark brown one with a couple of frayed ends, and paid for it and the dress before meeting a very perky (as usual) Mia outside the shop.

"So what next?"

"I actually don't know," Emma admitted after a moment of silence, avoiding looking at Mia's wide and expectant eyes. "I tend not to think through my plans completely before I decide to do them. I got away from home, and I got a disguise, but I didn't really think about what to do after," she confessed, twirling the ends of her braid between her fingers, smiling sheepishly.

Mia let out a light laugh, her eyebrow still raised. "I should get back to the inn soon. Maybe you can help out at the tavern tonight? We're supposed to get a few new ships in port tonight. I'm sure I can convince Little John to give you a job for a few nights until you figure out what you want to do."

Emma nodded silently, and before she knew it, Mia had her hand latched around her wrist in a vice grip, and the two girls were running through the village to get to the inn. They dodged townspeople left and right, ducking under signs and jumping out the way of carriages and people carrying baskets full of food and clothing. They earned a couple of angry grumbles along the way, but Emma didn't care; she had never felt so alive more than she did right now. She was out of breath by the time they reached the inn's entrance, but she could hear the sound of the men shouting and bottles clashing from within even though it was still early in the evening.

"Come on," Mia coaxed, tugging at Emma's sleeve when she noticed that her new friend had hesitated at the entrance to the inn's accompanying tavern. "It sounds worse than it is. I promise," Mia reassured. "Robin owns the inn and tavern, but Little John is in charge of all the barmaids and just, well, the bar in general. We'll find him first before bothering Robin."

Emma let Mia guide her into the tavern, and she let the smell of alcohol invade her nose before blinking once, subconsciously adjusting her eyes to the new light and setting. There was a bar spanning across the entire back wall; three women were working behind it, fixing up drinks for the men that sat on wooden stools stationed along the bar's counter. In each corner of the room, there was a circular table with a booth and a few chairs surrounding it. In the rest of the room, wooden tables and chairs filled up the empty space, spanning from one end of the room to the other and barely leaving any room in between for people to walk through.

It didn't take long to find Little John. He was at the center of one of the largest crowds at the end of the bar, his company occupying the circular table half shrouded in darkness. Emma could hear the sound of glasses clanking together and the sloshing of the alcohol inside, the yells of the spirited men as they drank the night away invading her ears once more. The entire joint smelled strongly of alcohol, the stench even more prominent on the inside, and Emma wrinkled her nose, not used to the strong odor. Back in the castle, the most anyone seemed to drink was a glass of wine every now and then, usually only on special occasions.

"Little John, ya big drunk! I need to chat with ya!" Mia called out, placing a hand on her hip as she shot a smile at the man next to her, whose jaw was slacked and his drink forgotten for the time being.

"Amelia!" a man's voice boomed, and the men were suddenly parted, allowing for a bigger man to walk through. He held a mug of some kind of alcohol in his hand, the liquid spilling over the sides when he raised his hands to greet his employee. Even though he seemed half-drunk, Emma could see the kind twinkle in his eyes and the lines etched onto his face permanently from years of smiling. He had a shaggy mane of hair that spread down to his shoulders and across the bottom of his face, forming an equally unkempt beard and mustache. "Where have you been, girl?" Even though the question was phrased as a demand, Emma could hear the mirth in his voice, and she instantly knew Little John wasn't angry with Mia.

"I was helping out a new friend. Little John, this is Ella," Mia introduced, using the alias that the girls had come up with before even entering the dress shop. Aria had assured Emma that they had ridden far enough away where Emma wouldn't be recognized on sight, but there was no guarantee that her name was unknown in these villages. In Emma's mind, it was better safe than sorry, and she had no desire to see her escape plan fail before it had even really begun.

"Nice to meet ya, Ella. Are ya new to the village? Reckon I haven't seen someone the likes of you around before."

"Yes. I just arrived this morning. Mia was just showing me around," Emma said, offering a kind smile at Little John, ignoring the wild thumping of her heart. Thanks to the confines of the castle walls and her parents' strict orders to never leave without a guard with her, Emma was rarely granted access to the true outside world. When she was able to escape for a few hours, her titles proceeded her; the village people treated her respectfully, and, well, like a princess. Now, off on her own, Emma felt like she was experiencing the real world for the first time, and that included using a fake name and talking to strangers in taverns apparently.

"Look, Little John, Ella's only in town for a few days, and she needs some money to help her on her way. Is it possible you can allow her to bartend here for a few nights?" Mia pleaded.

Little John rocked on his back heels, cradling his cup close to his chest. His lips were pursed, his narrowed eyes analyzing Emma. One hand reached up to tug on his beard, a habit Emma recognized from her royal tutor as one of thinking, pondering. "D'you have any experience bartending, lass?"

Mia nudged her with her shoulder, and Emma cleared her throat, wringing her hands together in front of her stomach nervously. "Yeah, loads. I used to waitress back in my old village."

Little John nodded, slowly raising his glass and dumping the remainder of its contents into his mouth. He smacked his lips once, the sound drowned in the uproar of a group of men at a nearby table focused on a dice game. "Tell ya what. The port's gonna be busy the next few nights. Why don'cha stay until they all clear on out a bit and things dim down around here?"

"Really?" Emma asked, not sure why she was surprised that Little John had offered her a job. Mia all but said he would.

"Yeah, an extra hand or two could help around here. Amelia here will show ya around and keep an eye on ya. If ya ever need me, I'm usually at this table right round here," he said, gesturing over his shoulder to the packed table behind him.

Emma nodded gratefully, not sure what else to say. She was relieved when she felt Mia tugging on her hand, pulling her towards the bar, and when Little John sat back at his table, swiping a tankard from the bar and refilling his glass amidst cheers and spirited hollers.

"Is he always drunk?" Emma found herself asking, glancing over her shoulder discreetly to eye the table.

"That? That was just Little John having some fun. He's never truly drunk in case something were to ever go wrong round here. If anything, he's just merry." Mia directed Emma behind the bar, dragging her to the far end where there was a door nearly hidden behind shelves and unused tables. "Sorry. This door always seems to be blocked," she apologized, nudging the tables away with her foot before swinging the door open. "Here we are!"

The room was dark and tiny, but Mia grabbed a lantern hanging from the wall and used it to provide a glimpse into the room. There were shelves that lined each of the walls, stretching up to the ceiling. While most of the shelves held tankards of different kinds of alcohol, some were dedicated to storing empty cups and fresh towels. There was a small stack of chairs pressed against the back shelf, most of the seats already placed outside in the actual tavern.

Mia ignored all of the supplies though, choosing instead to turn to her immediate right, reaching up slightly and grabbing two white aprons that hung from the wall on a hook. "Here, wrap this around your waist. Tie it tightly so it doesn't get snagged on anything as you walk around."

Emma did as she was told, tying her apron as Mia closed the door once more and led her behind the bar. She pointed out where everything was located, and she told Emma what she was going to be doing, including taking orders and serving them, occasionally even serving them to tables throughout the tavern. Emma had looked at Mia with wide eyes, and the girl had laughed, unraveling her hair from its bun and passing her fingers through it a few times.

"Again, it sounds worse than it is. Now, you might wanna consider letting your hair outta that braid. Loose hair tends to drive the men a little wild, and that means more tips for you, princess," Mia winked and smirked mischievously at Emma, the double meaning behind the new nickname not lost on the latter girl. Emma shook her head quickly, twisting the ends of her braid nervously, and Mia shrugged, a wide smile still plastered on her face.

The night progressed quite smoothly, Ema trailing Mia and helping her to serve drinks. The men, especially those who became victims to the alcohol early in the night, seemed entranced by Emma's beauty. Emma, not used to the constant flirtatious remarks and pointed stares, found herself blushing repeatedly throughout the night, a reaction that only seemed to summon more men. She allowed the men to have their fun, mostly because she felt safe knowing that Mia was watching her and that Little John had stayed in the same corner all night, his presence known throughout the tavern by his booming laugh. Only one had the courage to latch onto Emma's wrist when she handed him his drink, his dirty fingers causing red marks to appear on Emma's creamy skin. He had tugged her forward roughly so that Emma's free hand was pressed against the bar counter in an effort to keep herself steady, but she was otherwise bent mostly over the counter, her head so close to the drunken man that she could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned closer.

The encounter had ended as quickly as it had started as Emma used her free hand to let go of the counter and dig her nails into the man's arm, causing him to yelp and allowing her to rip her arm free of the man's clutches. Both glared daggers at one another, and the man made to strike Emma, but he was held back before he was able to reach her.

"Causing trouble once again, lad?" Little John's voice called out, and the man ungracefully whirled around to see the barkeeper smiling coldly at him. "I thought ya would have learned ya lesson last week when ya were violent towards one of Robin's girls. 'Fraid I have no choice but to turn ya out again." Two of Little John's friends grabbed the man's arms and dragged him out of the tavern, the man cursing and insulting Emeline the entire way out. "Ya alright, lass?" Little John asked.

"I'll be fine. I can take care of myself," Emma said, her hand subconsciously rubbing her wrist in an effort to soothe the forming bruise. "Thank you for your help, though," she added, realizing how ungrateful she sounded at first.

Little John chuckled, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "I have no doubt about that, lass. Those scratches on his arm ya left will last for days. Serves 'im right." He squeezed her shoulder once more before turning around, rejoining his friends at the table.

Emma continued her job, forcing the memory of the attempted assault out of her mind for the time being. The tavern only grew busier as the night wore on, and more than once, Emma found herself being complimented by Mia about what a natural she was at the job. For the most part, the men were civil drunks, save for the constant flirting and intentional brushes of their hands against hers. If anything, Emma found most of them funny, she herself amazed that drinking and gambling inside of a small room was how sailors decided to spend their time at port. In retrospect, she could understand what months at sea could do a person, and she figured that spending the night drinking away one's mind and playing rigged dice games was just a way to relieve stress. But thinking about it and experiencing it were two different things, and already, not one night away from her prim and proper castle life, Emma felt her eyes and mind opening to a whole new world.

"Are you tired yet?" Mia snuck up behind Emma, causing the girl to jump and allow some of the rum she was pouring to slip over the edges of the cup, the liquid sliding over her hand. "Sorry," she giggled apologetically as Emma wiped up the mess.

"This is the most work I have ever done in my entire life," Emma admitted, and Mia nodded slowly, noting the way some more strands of golden hair had escaped from the loose braid and were cascading down the runaway princess' face. Her cheeks were slightly reddened, whether it be from the hard work or the remnants of hours of blushing, Mia was clueless, but the slight tinge to her cheeks brought out the green in her eyes. Her apron was slightly dirty, and the sleeves of her dress had begun to slip down her arms, baring her shoulders and collarbones, but Emma didn't seem to notice nor care. "And I absolutely love it," Emma continued, making Mia smile warmly. "I never knew how exhilarating this all was."

"It's just a job, princess," Mia teased, using her nickname for Emma again. "I figured ya would hate it, especially with the job I found ya. Bartending's not for everyone. I saw that pass that one man made at you earlier tonight. You're okay?" Mia verified, grabbing an empty cup and filling it with alcohol before sliding it down the bar to a waiting bartender.

"I'm fine. I managed to scratch him. I can take care of myself," Emma replied, repeating the words she used earlier that night with Little John. Mia raised an eyebrow, smirking at her new friend.

Mia was about to reply when the doors to the tavern swung open, banging against the walls and drawing eyes toward the newcomers. As more men stepped through the doors, the entire tavern became silent. The girls had all stopped their movements, staring either fearfully or flirtatiously at the group, and the other inhabitants of the bar all stared, their expressions knowing, fearful, uncomfortable.

The first man, the one who slammed the doors open, took one step forward, and the only sound that could be heard in the entire tavern was the sound of ragged breathing, the thump of the man's boots as he walked slowly to a corner table, and the quiet ring as the chains around his neck clinked together. Eyes followed the man until he reached the table, leaning his head back and opening his mouth slightly, just wide enough to stick the tip of his tongue out and swipe his bottom lip. His eyes surveyed the room, his dark blue eyes landing briefly on Emma and Mia, who were huddled together, frozen, behind the bar. In the second that his eyes rested on them, Emma felt a chill race up her spine, calling her to stiffen.

Satisfied, the man smirked before lowering himself slowly in the seat, his back resting against the wall. As soon as he was settled, his group filed into the tavern, and the room soon become loud and boisterous once more. Drinking resumed, dice games started up again, and the women began to serve once more, a couple making their way over to the newcomers immediately.

Emma watched silently as the ringleader of the group, the man with the dark blue eyes, wrapped his arm around the waist of the incoming bartender, practically pulling the girl onto his waist. She giggled, throwing her arm around his shoulder and handing him a full tankard of alcohol with the other. He let out a loud laugh, and though Emma was halfway across the room, she could hear the laugh as clear as it would have sounded if the man had been standing right next to her. Another chill crept up her spine, and she immediately lowered her eyes, not wanting to be caught staring by the stranger.

"Mia, who are they?" Emma whispered to her friend. Mia's eyes were locked on the glass she was cleaning, her posture rigid and her cheeks sucked in. The happy-go-lucky girl was gone for the time being, and Emma found this quick change in demeanor even more unsettling than anything that she had witnessed in the tavern all night. "Mia," she pressed.

Mia closed her eyes, setting the glass down on the counter with shaking hands. She gripped the edges of the counter, her knuckles turning white from the rough grip. After a few moments of silence from her friend, Mia took a deep breath and turned, her chocolate-colored eyes locking with Emma's worried eyes.

"Captain Blackbeard and his crew."


	3. Chapter 3

Mia watched the pirate crew out of the corner of her eye, her back beginning to grow stiff from the rigid posture she was keeping. Her fingertips began to ache from the tight hold she kept on the glass, and she opted to set it down before she hurt something. Looking down, she brushed her fingers around her left ring finger, tracing the pattern of a ring.

If she knew anything about pirates, it's that they wanted treasure. And they didn't care who was in the way as long as they got it.

"Mia? Are you serious?" Emma hissed into her ear. Mia sighed deeply. She had been trying to avoid the blonde ever since revealing who the newcomers were, choosing to clean cups and seem busier than she actually was. She had succeeded for a good half an hour, depending on the other sailors to keep Emma busy bartending and not questioning her. But the bar had quieted down a bit, and the rush was winding down as it neared nearly two in the morning. And Emma had wasted no time in seeking out Mia. "That's _the_ Captain Blackbeard?"

"I see you've heard the stories," Mia replied dryly, all of the happiness absent in her voice. She was sure that the light had been snuffed out of her eyes as well, the light that left every time Blackbeard was mentioned or even thought of.

"Who hasn't heard the stories?" Emma whispered back. Mia chose not to respond, and Emma watched her new friend closely, her bottom lip captured between her teeth. Tentatively, she placed her hand on top of Mia's, and the girl shivered from the close and unexpected contact. "Why do I feel like I haven't heard all of them yet though?" Mia squeezed her eyes shut, tears pricking at the corners and threatening to slide beneath her lids and down her cheeks. "Mia, what's wrong?"

Mia's mouth felt dry, and when she opened her mouth to respond, no words came out. Dust seemed to rest under her tongue, down her throat. It was as if she hadn't opened her mouth and used it for years. Her eyes were stinging now from trying to hold in her emotions, and Mia could feel her breathing start to increase, her heart not used to bottling in so much feeling all at once. A tear slipped under her eyelid and trickled down her cheek leaving an ice cold trail in its wake.

"Pardon me, but does anyone know where I can get a glass of rum?" a new voice asked. Emma turned quickly to face the bar, Mia not finding it in herself to move a muscle. It was as if she was frozen in place, the memories and the emotions too much for her to handle right now. She swore to herself that she had moved on, and she knew that she had deep down, but now, of all times, she was wondering if that was even remotely possible. He had ingrained himself in her heart, and then he was cruelly ripped away, and Mia knew _exactly_ who to blame for that.

A man was leaning against the bar, smirking cockily at the two barmaids, even though only one of them was facing him. He had crossed his arms on top of the counter, leaning against them and causing the outline of his defined arms to be seen through the long-sleeved black shirt he wore. His hands peeked out from underneath his arms, just enough to see the many different rings that adorned almost every finger on each hand. He had unruly black hair that stuck up at odd ends in the back and flopped over his forehead lazily, and his eyes were outlined in black, causing the bright blue of his irises to really stand out, his eyes themselves being a great contrast to his otherwise dark and dangerous attire. He shifted restlessly, his blue eyes staring holes into Emma, daring her to come closer.

The girl herself didn't break their stare, not wanting him to feel like he had won anything. Even so, her decision made her want to wrap herself in her arms and hide while at the same time it made her want to walk towards the man and start a conversation.

"Are you going to be the one that fetches me a glass of rum, love?" the man asked, his tongue flitting out to lick his bottom lip, his bright blue eyes watching her from underneath his hooded stare.

She was the first one to break the stare, directing her gaze to the area right next to the man's face. There was a bar fight about to start on the other side of the tavern, but the eyes in front of her held her prisoner behind the bar, not allowing her to move, and seeming to compel her eyes to return to his.

She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, forcing herself to meet his stare defiantly once more. "Are you going to be the one who asks nicely?"

His eyebrow shot up in amusement, and the corner of his lip twitched up in a half-smirk. "Kindness is not a trait found amongst most sailors, lass, especially in this type of environment. How long have you been serving?"

She thought about lying, and, looking back on it, she should have said that she's been here for weeks, months even. But before she could process her thoughts, she was revealing that is was her first night on the job.

The man allowed his smirk to widen, and he leaned forward so that his breath was close to fanning her face. "Exactly as I thought. Now run along and fetch me my drink." When he spoke, she could smell the rum on his breath, and she involuntarily crinkled his nose.

"I don't think you need any more liquor."

She could tell he was growing impatient with her. His smirk fell from his face, and his jaw clenched. He let out a bark of laughter, one that didn't hold any joy and instead managed to make the hairs on the back of Emma's neck stand up. Perhaps she took it too far.

"I think that you should shut that pretty mouth of yours and get the rum before I do something I'll probably regret," he spoke lowly, letting the "t" pop in the last word, his eyes glinting dangerously. "Savvy?" He held up a silver coin and flipped it so that it landed on the counter in between them with a soft clink.

"Please," Emma scoffed before she could stop herself. "You couldn't handle it." She rolled her eyes, reaching for the coin. All she wanted at this point was for the man to leave her alone so that she could go back and talk to Mia about Blackbeard. She glanced at her friend out the corner of her eye; Mia was still cleaning the same glass as before, her eyes burning a hole into the wall at the far end of the tavern.

Emma's concentration was broken, however, when a hand grasped her wrist hard. She turned to look at the man, who was glaring daggers at her, another amused smirk gracing his lips. He tugged her harshly so that she was leaning over the counter, a position that she had found herself in not so long ago. Her breath hitched in her throat as she felt her braid fall over one shoulder, the end of her hair getting damp from some spilled water on the counter. She felt something cold underneath her chin, the rings on the man's other hand digging into her tender skin as he pushed her head up to meet his gaze. "Perhaps you're the one who couldn't handle it," he whispered to her, his tongue darting out once more to meet his lip. He dragged his bottom lip between his teeth, his blue eyes never leaving Emma's, even as she yanked her arm away and stood up with a shaky breath. "The rum, if you please, lass."

Emma didn't hesitate this time to grab a glass from behind her and fill it with the requested liquor. She pushed it towards him harshly, and some of the liquid spilled over the side, coating his hand in the sticky drink. He glared at her once more, all amusement drained from his face, and Emma smiled sweetly in response before turning away and making her way back to Mia.

She didn't realize how nervous she was until she was standing next to her friend. Her throat was suddenly very dry, and her hand shook slightly as she raised one to place over her chest in a feeble attempt to soothe her racing heart. "Do you-. Do you have any idea who that was?" Emma whispered to Mia, her voice refusing to go any louder.

"Jones, I believe is his name. He's been in here quite a bit. Been on Blackbeard's crew for years as far as I can tell," she explained in monotone, her eyes still glued to the wall.

Emma could see Mia was still spaced out, and she nodded, absentmindedly grabbing her bottom lip with her teeth and chewing on it. "He likes rum," she stated.

"Does he?" Mia asked. "They usually do, pirates."

"Mia, if you polish the glass any harder, it will shatter," Emma advised, reaching over and prying the glass and rag from the bartender's hands. A shaky breath followed the loss of her distraction, and Mia hung her head, finally losing her staring contest with the tavern wall. "Mia, maybe you should go sit down. You don't look too well."

"Amelia!" a new voice interrupted them, and Emma glanced up to see Little John making his way towards them. He was trying to keep a calm façade; Emma was familiar with them from years of experiencing her parents work through a war with the Evil Queen. But the tell-tale signs of worry were all too evident in Little John's face: the thin line his mouth was set it, the flashes of fear in his eyes, the tense muscles and brisk walk towards them. Just seeing the carefree man so stressed and nervous made Emma tense. He finally reached the bar, his hand going out to cover Mia's shoulder.

"Ella, do me a favor and take her back to your room for the night. Lock the door and window as well. And Ella," he ordered, leaning in close so that there was a less chance Mia would hear, "stay with her tonight. Don't leave her alone."

All Emma could do was nod, her throat seeming even drier than after her encounter with Jones. She grabbed Mia's arm, and her friend let Emma lead her through the maze of tables until they were outside of the tavern.

Emma welcomed the cool air, letting it wash over her skin and gently comb through the free strands of her hair that had escaped the braid. The air smelled like the sea, and Emma could hear the sounds of the waves crashing to her right and the faint yells of sailors trying to dock their ships. A man stumbled on the opposite side of the street, bellowing a song that Emma didn't recognize. As the women passed him, he tripped over his foot, landing spread-eagle on the ground. His drink splattered over the ground, but the sailor either didn't notice or didn't care, for all he did was roll over onto his back and continue to sing the next verse of the song in a very off-key voice.

Emma tightened her hold around Mia's upper arm, guiding her into the building neighboring the tavern and leading her up the short flight of stairs and down the hallway to where her room was located. As she unlocked the door, it occurred to Emma that she didn't know where Mia lived or if she had any family that she had a home with. She made a mental note to ask her about it. Maybe tomorrow, when Mia was hopefully out of her unresponsive and lifeless mood.

The princess gently set her friend down on the single bed in the room, and Mia allowed Emma to remove her shoes and dirty apron before laying down and curling herself around the pillow, seeking comfort.

Emma sat underneath the window, watching as the stars played hide-and-go-seek in the clouds. She wondered if her mother was watching the same stars as her right now. Surely someone would have noticed she was gone by now; Aria and her had left the castle nearly a day ago, and Aria would have returned by now. Knowing her family though, no one probably suspected a thing. Everyone had most likely finished their hearty dinner and headed off to take care of their own lives. Her mother and father were probably sitting around the circular table, listening to reports from the Blue Fairy, Gepetto, the dwarves, Red and Granny. Snow was also focused on preparing a service for the Huntsman, who was killed during the war by the Evil Queen for protecting Emeline. Emma could imagine her mother pressuring the dwarves to arrange a memorial for her old friend, the seven men final submitting to her wishes, Grumpy grumbling the entire time about her mother's stubbornness.

Baelfire would have taken Emeline far away from the circular table, not wanting her to have to endure so much trauma from reliving the Huntsman's gruesome and unjust death, especially now that she was with child. Perhaps he had distracted her with a midnight stroll through the palace gardens, Emma's gardens. What if Emeline was looking at the stars as well?

No, everyone was far too busy with their own lives to take notice of Emma's.

She leaned her head back, settling into the corner where one wall met the other. It was less comfortable than she was used to, but nothing would compare to the thick mattress and fluffy pillows she left at home. Mia was sprawled over the bed right now, snoring lightly, and Emma didn't have the heart to move her after tonight's ordeal. She sighed deeply, her eyes drifting to the deserted village before roaming up once more. She didn't know how long she stared at the stars before she drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

* * *

"Emma! Wake up!" Emma felt her eyes flutter open upon hearing the frantic screaming. Mia's face was close to hers, her eyes flashing dangerously. Emma jumped back, startled, causing her head to bang into the wall behind her.

"Mia?" she grumbled, her voice thick with sleep, her hand flying up to cradle her now aching head.

"We have to run. Now," her friend spoke, the slight waver in her voice the only sign Emma caught that something was seriously wrong.

She opened her mouth to argue, to demand that Mia explain why they had to go, but then she heard the screaming. Turning away from Mia, Emma cast a glance outside the window, her eyes widening in unspoken horror. While the stars still managed to light up the night sky, their brightness was rivaled by the fires that now consumed the village below. Townspeople darted between buildings, coughing violently. Children's cries mixed with terrified screaming from both men and women alike, and Emma felt her heart twist painfully.

"Who-?"

"Who would do such a thing? Probably the same men who pillaged and plundered the village seven years ago," Mia spat venomously, grabbing Emma's wrist and yanking the princess to her feet. Once she was stable, Mia released her and raced to the closet, gathering both of their cloaks in her arms.

Emma felt her blood run cold, and she stiffened, her feet stilling themselves in the ground.

"Blackbeard," she answered, her voice nearly a whisper. The name tasted like poison as it rolled off her tongue, staining her cheeks, teeth, and lips along the way.

"Yes. Pirates are a ruthless lot, Princess. But we must hurry if we want safe passage out before the entire village falls."

This time, Emma let Mia tug her out the door and down the hallway. They emerged from the inn, smoke immediately invading Emma's nose and trespassing into her lungs. She let out a violent cough; she could hear Mia doing the same next to her. Together, hand in hand, the two women started to jog towards the tavern, which had not fallen victim to a fire yet.

As they ran towards the shelter, a fire sprouted in front of them with a loud bang, shattering nearby windows and sending Emma and Mia flying backwards onto the hard ground.

Emma groaned, a sharp pain spreading in her palm. She couldn't properly see in the dark, but she was pretty sure she had landed on some stray glass shards. Mia moaned next to her, and Emma struggled to blink away the smoke to see Mia sitting up and clutching her ankle, blood dripping down her hand to settle on her exposed calf.

"Mia?" Emma ventured, but her voice was overpowered by a foreign masculine one calling out her friend's full name. Silhouettes raced towards the two fallen girls through the smoke, and with Mia's injury, Emma could only hope they belonged to friends.

"Amelia!" the voice shouted once more, and two figures emerged from the smoky screen. One of them Emma recognized with relief as Little John, his face coated in soot and his forearm sporting a long scratch, but his eyes still holding the kindness she recognized during their first meeting. The other man Emma didn't recognize, but he had a strong build and a kind face underneath the sweat and soot that now covered it. A quiver of arrows was slung over his shoulder, and a bow was gripped in a very bruised, but otherwise unscathed, hand.

The unknown man automatically dropped down next to Mia, his hand covering hers on her ankle, while Little John held out a hand, which Emma accepted gratefully, ignoring the painful sting from her cuts that the contact issued.

"Robin, my ankle. I think I twisted it," Mia gasped, her voice laced with pain.

The man, who Emma now learned was the infamous Robin Hood that Mia had mentioned before, set his mouth in a thin line, touching Mia's ankle. As he applied more pressure, Mia hissed in pain, clenching her jaw to keep from crying out.

"That's more than a twist, lass," Robin said grimly. "I'd say you sprained it."

"Can she walk?" Little John interrupted.

An explosion sounded right next to them, shattering more glass and sending debris and smoke into the already polluted air.

"We don't have time to try. Little John, can you carry her until we are sheltered by the woods?"

Little John nodded once, bending down to pick Mia up, one arm hooking underneath her knees and the other wrapping around her waist. Once she was secure in his arms and Mia was holding tightly to Little John's shirt, Robin turned towards Emma, drinking her in for the first time.

"You have no weapon?" Emma shook her head in response to Robin's questions, her throat to dry to speak. Robin nodded, reaching for his waist and pulling out a dagger, which he proceeded to hand to her. "Here then. Take this. You'll need it."

Emma tentatively reached forward, grasping the hilt firmly in her good hand, her fingers lightly brushing Robin's in the process. Robin watched her for a minute before turning towards Little John, inclining his head back slightly. "Ready?"

At Little John's concurrence, Robin nocked an arrow in his bow, ready to fire quickly. "Follow me."

Robin darted off into the smoke, and Emma followed hot on his heels. The only way Emma knew Little John was behind her was the sound of his heavy footsteps, and even those were lost in the occasional scream or explosion.

"Right down here. It should be-," Robin started to say. He was interrupted by a battle cry as two men leaped down from the roof, blocking their path. Emma shrieked, the pirates laughing smugly at her fear.

Robin quickly fired an arrow, the point burying itself deeply into one of the men's chest. His smile froze in place, and the two pirates locked eyes before the one fell, dead before he even reached the ground. The other pirate's face contorted into an emotion unknown to Emma, and he bellowed in fury, brandishing his sword menacingly in the air. His yell alerted two more pirates, who rounded the corner and each sported evil grins tainted with anger at the sight of their fallen crewmate.

It was the first time that Ema fought with a weapon of any kind, save for the meager lessons that the Huntsman had offered her during the war. But that had been a time of distress, and the man always let Emma win.

As one of the new pirates lunged at her with his sword, Emma raised her blade, blocking him with a strained effort. The pirate swung at her again, and Emma managed to lock her hilt with his, shoving his weapon away from her before slicing forward and up through the air. She heard the whistle of the blade as it cut through the air between her and her attacker, and if the pirate hadn't jumped back, he would have been sliced across the chest, dead surely.

Emma took his moment of defense as a chance to glance down at her own blade, stunned. She had never fought in a real battle before, but here she was fighting as if she had been a knight for years, trained under the direction of her very own father, who was known to be the best swordsman in the kingdom.

The pirate growled, breaking Emma's train of thought as he swung wildly at her like an animal. She was able to parry the first swing, but she couldn't stop the sword from nicking her arm, a deep scratch glowing red against her fair skin.

Emma hissed, and the pirate took her flash of pain as an opportunity to disarm her, the dagger sprawling across the cobblestones as its wielder was shoved roughly into the wall. The pirate grinned, displayed his yellow, rotting teeth, and Emma felt yet another chill travel up her spine for about the hundredth time since the pirates arrived in port.

Emma pushed against the pirate with as much force as she could muster with her waning strength. She managed to shove him far enough away that she could slip between him and the wall, but before she could make another move, she felt a sharp pain in her cheek as the pirate backhanded her viciously. He pushed her back into the wall, the bricks serving as a rough pillow for the back of her head. He grabbed both of her wrists in his hand, holding them above her head as she weakly struggled to break free of his grasp. He leaned forward, driving his hips into hers, and she whimpered, shivering in complete disgust. He raised his bloodied sword, and Emma fought the urge to squeeze her eyes closed; if she was going to die, then she was going to do so bravely and defiantly.

The blow never came. Instead, the sword clattered to the ground, and the pirate's smile transformed into a surprised "o." He glanced down to see an arrow tip protruding from his gut, his grip on her hands loosening. The sword clattered to the ground next to him, and he fell backwards onto the ground just like his companion, blank eyes staring at the smoky sky.

Emma released a shaky breath, balling her hands into fists to keep them from shaking so much.

"Ella! Grab the sword!" Robin's voice sounded murky and far off. Everything was a blur as she stumbled away from the wall, and she staggered to her right, nearly falling. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly and seemed to roll about five times simultaneously, and Emma collapsed to her knees as the world was tilted upside down. Her hand landed on something warm, and she could just make out the hilt of a sword through her hazy vision.

"Ella!" the voice called out again, sounding a little bit closer this time. Her stomach was still flipping, but through blinking excessively, Emma was able to spot her friends scattered across the alley. Robin stood half-hidden in the shadows, another arrow already notched in his bow, ready to fire at a second's notice, his mouth set in a very firm, thin line. He rushed over to the fallen princess, his arrow never leaving the already dead pirate.

"Are you alright, Ella? Are you hurt?" he fretted, sparing a quick glance back at her. She placed her palms flat against the wall behind her and inched upwards until she was standing, her knees shaking violently but still managing to hold her upright. "Ella," Robin pressed when she didn't answer right away.

"I'm okay," she managed to squeak out, but a yell from Little John drowned out her pathetic excuse at a reassurance. Robin turned on his heel immediately, raising his bow and firing at one of the pirates that was holding a sword above his head in position to taken down Little John from behind. The pirate fell to the ground with an angry yell of anguish.

Emeline watched the exchange with wide eyes, both her arm and her hand starting to sting more with their injuries that she had managed to forget about until now. The sword looked foreign lying on the floor next to her despite the fact that she had held and fought with one just minutes before. Her head swam once more and her heart lodged in her throat when she remembered that this object had almost taken her life.

A movement out of the corner of her eye caught her attention, and Emma blinked and squinted into the smoky distance. A pirate was slinking across the rooftops of the low buildings, brandishing a sharp dagger in his hand that glinted dangerously in the moonlight. He stopped suddenly, aiming his throw at someone below him. She followed his line of vision and rested her gaze on the target, a distracted Robin who was preparing to loose another arrow at the pirate plaguing Little John.

Without thinking twice, Emma dove forward, crashing into Robin and knocking him off balance just as he let the arrow go. He fell to the floor groaning, and Emma stood frozen in Robin's place, eyes closed and ready for the pain that never came for the second time that night. Instead she felt a harsh shove that sent her tumbling to the side and onto the dirty gravel.

A strangled yell broke her silent reverie, and she heard a commotion before everything was quiet. The skirmish was over, and she was not dead, a fact that she deemed to be quite a miracle.

"Amelia! Amelia, can you hear me?" Robin's voice broke through Emma's thoughts, and she blinked twice, clearing her vision of both smoke and tears. Little John was hunched over a few yards away, one hand gripping the wall of a building while the other was clutching his right calf, which had a bloody arrow sprouting from it. It seemed that Robin's off-target arrow had hit Little John instead of the intended pirate. Dead pirates littered the floor, the swords scattered around the alley and blood staining both the blades and the ground. Smoke still swirled through the night sky, blocking access to the moon and stars, and fires still raged across the village, but the explosions had ceased, and Emma couldn't hear much terrified screaming over the low ring in her ears.

Robin was kneeling on the ground only a few feet away from Ema, a body resting on the floor in front of him. Emma stumbled forward, the few extra feet allowing her to recognize Mia's frizzy brown hair sprawled over Robin's lap. A pool of blood was forming around Mia's chest and arms, staining Robin's pants and hands. The wound originated from a stomach gash marked with a short dagger buried in the girl's body.

"No," Emma mumbled, dropping to her knees once more. "Mia," she managed to say a little louder, her voice shaky as she wrapped her delicate hand around her friend's bloody one.

"Em," she whispered; Emma was sure that she only heard because she was solely focused on hearing Mia's voice, no matter how weak or broken it sounded in this moment.

"We're going to have to take out the blade," Robin spoke up, his voice controlled but his shaking hands revealing just how nervous he was. "I know you're not supposed to, but it's the only way that I'll be able to clean it and stop the bleeding. We can-."

"Robin, stop," Mia said, her soft voice somehow causing Robin's voice to die out midsentence. "It's too late," she whimpered, moving her hand slightly so that it covered more of her wound. Robin frowned, shaking his head as tears began to form in his eyes.

"Mia, stop that. We can-."

"No, Robin. You have to leave me," she gasped, taking deep breaths as her eyes began to flutter. "But you have to promise me to keep her safe."

"Of course, Mia. Of course," Robin consented, sparing a quick glance at Emma as Mia drew in a shaky breath.

"Keep Roland safe too. Make sure no harm comes to him. And Robin, please, let me go. Not just physically, but emotionally. Let yourself love again. Don't let this stop you."

"Amelia-," Robin trailed off, a single tear escaping and making its way slowly down his cheek.

"I never thought I'd be able to find love again, not after Blackbeard came last time and killed Nottingham. I've felt his ring on my finger for years as a reminder to close myself off, but somehow you managed to find your way into my heart. Don't close yourself off to love like I did."

Mia's eyes fluttered, and she closed them, her chest rising slowly from the shallow breaths. With a great effort that had Emma whimpering for her friend, Mia managed to open her eyes one more time to gaze into Robin's.

"Amelia Marian, I love you," Robin whispered, his voice cracking as more tears slid down his face. He drew in a deep, shaky breath, letting his hand caress Mia's face as she moved to lean into his palm.

"I love you too, Robin Hood. Tell Roland the same." Robin nodded wildly, and he bent down, pressing a deep kiss to Mia's chapped lips. He broke apart gently, fighting the urge to let out a great sob as his hands ran across her cheeks and pushed stray hairs back into place.

"Ella," Mia's voice was nearly a whisper as she addressed the princess, and Emma had to lean in to hear her, squeezing Mia's hand the process to let her friend know she was there. "You must get out of here. Robin will protect you and bring you to the forest with the Merry Men. But you must get far away from this village! If those pirates find out who you are-," Mia trailed off, but Emma knew what she wanted to say. "Take care of yourself. I know I've only known you for a day, but you're a wonderful friend, and an even better person." Mia used what little strength she had to pull Emma's hand closer, and Emma leaned forward until her ear was right next to Mia's mouth, Emma's golden hair shielding their faces from Robin and Little John. "It was an honor to be your friend, Princess. You'll make a great queen one day."

Emma pulled back with a wavering breath, gulping down a sob as her eyes welled with tears. "Thank you, Mia. For everything."

Mia squeezed her hand gently and took a single deep breath before letting her eyes flutter closed. Her hand grew limp in Emma's hand, and the princess let out a loud sob, not wanting to believe what just happened. Her head was swimming once more, and her vision was clouded by the leftover smoke and her new tears.

She didn't know how long she sat there, clutching Mia's cold hand in both of hers, but eventually she felt a hand on her shoulder, and she looked up with a tearstained face to meet an equally upset Little John. He had ripped off the sleeves of his tunic and used the cloth as a makeshift bandage to wrap around his calf. He held out a hand to her, and Emma reluctantly let go of Mia's hand, folding both of them delicately over her friend's stomach. As soon as she was standing, Little John handed her a sword, and Emma heart leapt into her throat as she recognized it as the one she had been battling with earlier. She gazed fearfully at Little John, who nodded at her, holding the sword closer to her. With a trembling hand, Emeline grasped the hilt, relieving Little John of its weight. She stared at it, letting the memories of recent flash threw her mind before she closed her eyes, sheathing the sword with a deep breath.

"Here," Robin's voice broke through her reverie, and she turned, opening her eyes to see Robin holding out a wet blade to her. "Mia would have wanted you to have it. She would have wanted to make sure you were well protected."

It took Emma a moment, but when she realized where the blade had come from, she blanched, backing up until she collided with Little John, who wrapped an arm around her waist to steady her. Emma shook her head wildly, a frantic look taking over her eyes. "No! I don't want that cursed blade!"

"Ella-."

"No! It killed Mia! It killed my friend! I don't want it!"

"Ella, listen! Mia sacrificed herself for you, and I won't have her die in vain because you weren't adequately armed to defend yourself. Take the dagger. Hide it. It will be an emergency blade," Robin compromised, his tone defiant. Emma was ready to refuse once more until she met Robin's eyes. They were fierce, defiance coating the outside like a wall. But all walls have cracks, and through these walls, Emma could see pain, love, and sadness. Robin just lost his love, and here he was, trying to stay strong for the sake of trying to protect Emma and get her and Little John to safety. Without another argument, Emma took the recently cleaned dagger from Robin, trying to ignore its history as she stuffed it into her boot so that no one would see it.

"Ready then? Let's sneak around the edges of the buildings. I'm not sure if the pirates have retreated yet, but just in case they're still pillaging the village, it'll be in our best interest to stay in the shadows until we reach the forest."

Little John and Emma nodded silently at Robin's plan, and soon the three of them were jogging away, leaving the dead pirates and Mia in the alley. Emma kept glancing back until her friend could no longer be seen due to the thick fog. Once she was no longer visible, the princess found it impossible to keep in the sob that had been building up for the past few minutes. She wiped her cheeks violently, wishing that she could stop crying for one moment as it was very hard to run and keep up with the men with her limited vision.

"She was a good person, Mia was," Little John spoke quietly beside her as the three stopped jogging and proceeded to walk carefully in the shadows the buildings provided. "She was a hardworking girl, very dedicated to her job and always upbeat and optimistic. Nothing ever seemed to get her down. The only time I saw her lose herself was seven years ago when Blackbeard attacked the village."

"What happened then? She didn't look well when his crew entered the tavern last night."

"Mia was in love with the sheriff of the village back then. He had just proposed to her a month before the village was attacked, and Mia couldn't be any happier even if she tried. When the village was raised, the pirates wanted to take away Mia, along with some of the other girls of the village, but the sheriff wasn't having any of that, and so he challenged Blackbeard himself to a duel. The sheriff was winning, surprisingly enough, until one of the crewmen snuck behind Mia and held a knife to her throat. The duel stopped, and the sheriff pleaded his life for Mia's, which Blackbeard was all too willing to take. He killed the sheriff right in front of Mia, and then proceeded to try to kidnap her and the other girls. Pirates are never ones to honor their agreements, lass," Little John said wistfully. "Robin heard the commotion, and he ended up gathering some Merry Men to engage the pirates in a duel. There were some casualties on both sides, and some of the girls were taken, regretfully, but Robin was able to free the majority of them, including Mia. They did steal most of the womens' jewels though, including Mia's engagement ring. It was a lovely thing too. It was a simple gold band with a small diamond in the center that Nottingham had managed to buy from one of the dwarves in the mines."

"When did she and Robin fall in love?" she asked, her eyes trained on Robin Hood, who was walking a few paces in front of them, his head bent low, but his shoulders squared, his bow loaded and ready to fight.

"A couple of years ago. Mia wasn't herself for years after the attack. She rarely smiled, never laughed. We were lucky if she got out of her bed some days. But she had a friend up at the palace who had heard what happened and came down to visit often. I remember she came to me one day and asked if Mia could have a job at the tavern in order to keep her mind off Nottingham and the raid. I agreed immediately, but the hard part was convincing Mia to come and work. Eventually, she did, and she grew to love being a barmaid. She became herself again, and I know that she never forgot Nottingham or the trauma that she went through during the raid, but it was a start. Robin didn't meet Mia until nearly a year after she started working. He had been on a mission with the Merry Men for the King and Queen at the time, and so I was left in charge of the inn and tavern. They became good friends right away, and Mia finally let Robin into her heart a couple years ago. They always discussed marriage, but Robin never proposed, and there was never any time to really between the war with the Evil Queen and Mia's pregnancy with their son, Roland."

"Mia has a son?" Emma asked, her heart breaking for the child who would never see his mother again.

"Yes. He's nearly a year and a half by now. Robin's adamant that he be taught how to use a bow and arrow soon, but Mia was always chiding him and saying he could barely run, let alone shoot an arrow," Little John chuckled, his eyes glazed by memories. "It's such a shame that this happened to her again. She deserved a happy ending, one with marriage and a family and no pirate raids."

Emma nodded, lowering her head. "This was my fault."

"What?" Little John asked, and Emma could feel his eyes burning holes in the side of her head even though she refused to look at him. "She died because of me. She pushed me out of the way so that the dagger wouldn't hit me." The blade in her boot suddenly weighed about a million pounds, and she could feel its cold metal rubbing against her skin with the image of it buried in Mia's stomach burning behind her eyes.

"No, it wasn't your fault," Robin interrupted their conversation, falling into step with Emma and Little John. "If I recall, you pushed me out of the way to save my life, and if it weren't for you, I'd be dead. So, I thank you immensely for that. If you weren't there, Roland would possibly be growing up without his father or mother."

"But Mia died. She died saving me. I've only known her one day, and she'd been so kind to me unconditionally. She took me shopping, she provided me with shelter and food, and she found me a job! I wasn't worth saving, but she did so anyway."

"If there were two things Mia excelled at, it was being an excellent judge of character and being loyal to her friends. There was something in you that Mia saw saving, and that something was important enough for her to trade her life for," Robin consoled, smiling softly at Emma as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. "Mia didn't die for nothing."

Little John limped beside her, and he shot her a comforting smile as well before turning to look at their path. It was the early hours of morning, and the sun hadn't risen yet, so Emma didn't see how Little John was able to tell that the forest was straight ahead; she was fighting to see through the smoke and the darkness.

"It's not that far, lass. Once we reach the forest, our campsite is only another mile or so," Little John reassured her.

"Stop," Robin commanded suddenly, grabbing ahold of Emma's arm to keep her from walking. "Something's not right. I thought I heard a noise."

The words had barely left Robin's mouth before a flash of metal caught Emma's eye, and then Robin was groaning in pain. His bow fell to the ground as he gripped his right arm with his left hand, blood quickly coating his hand and tunic. The three of them all whipped around to see half of Blackbeard's crew facing them, twisted grins on their faces and weapons raised. Blackbeard stood in the center of the group, his mouth forming an evil grin as he pointed his bloodied broadsword at the trio.

"Well, well, well, look what we have here, mates."


	4. Chapter 4

**For those of you that have read Chapters 1-3 before 5/17/17, I changed some of the characters around. Emma is now the main character, and Emeline is her older sister who is pregnant and engaged to Baelfire after helping defeat the Evil Queen. Really, all I did was reverse Emma's and Emeline's roles. To be honest, I watched the season 6 finale and decided that I wanted this to be more of a CS fanfic. Okay, carry on :).**

"Ella, run! Get out of here!" Robin cried before one of the pirates stepped forward and delivered a well-aimed punch at Robin's ribs. He collapsed to the ground, groaning in pain, and was quickly surrounded by three members of Blackbeard's crew, all of them pointing their swords at Robin's tense form.

"Ella, you heard him," Little John said, pulling her behind him and giving her a small shove back towards the direction they ran from. She stumbled a bit, watching in horror as five pirates advanced, weapons raised, three of them focused on detaining Little John while the other two seemed to have eyes only for her. She felt herself freeze, her brain refusing to send the signals to her legs to run as fast as she could back to the shelter of the deep part of the forest.

"Ella!" Robin's yell broke her from her reverie, and she turned and began to run, trying to drown out the shouts of the pirates chasing her. She didn't make it very far before something grabbed hold of her upper arm and spun her around so that her back was pressed against something hard and a sharp dagger was pressed against her throat.

"Miss me, love?" a low voice drawled in her ear, and Emma felt herself stiffen and grit her teeth in anger.

"You," she said, the word laced with venom. She raised her arms to fight the pirate away, but he quickly grabbed hold on her wrist and pinned it behind her back, applying more pressure to the knife at her neck.

"I wouldn't fight if I were you, lass."

"My first mate is right, girl. No one is fighting, and no one is running. We'd hate to spill blood," Blackbeard finally spoke, earning a growl from Little John and a dry laugh from Robin.

"You've spilt more than half of Loxley's blood in one night!"

"And so three more persons won't do much more damage then."

"Look, what do you want?" Robin asked from his spot on the ground. He had managed to move into a kneeling position, his hand still clutching the wound on his arm. Three pirates surrounded him while another three were physically detaining a struggling Little John. The two pirates that had pursued Emma returned to their positions on the outskirts once Jones had a hold of her. She tested him once more, leaning forward and wiggling in vain to try and free her arm. His grip only tightened, and the knife pressed deeper into her neck. If she moved anymore, or if Jones slipped any, the dagger would surely break her skin.

"We're pirates, mate," Blackbeard responded, earning some chuckles from his crew. "We pillage and plunder villages. There be not no reason for it." The crew cheered this time, raising their weapons, and Emma couldn't help but squirm in fear. She despised herself for feeling nervous- Emeline probably would have had an escape plan in progress by now-, but the three of them were disarmed and surrounded by cutthroat pirates with the only survivors of the attack either taking shelter at Robin's safe haven or hiding somewhere else in Sherwood Forest.

"Well then there should be no reason for you to keep us here," Robin pointed out. "You've got your treasure. Why keep us?"

"You're right. You three are no use to me." Blackbeard smirked, a gold tooth peeking out from the corner of his lips. "Men, which one do we kill first?"

The crew shouted answers left and right, many of them calling for Robin to be the first to die. There were some pirates' voices who raised above the crowd, calling out vulgar things about how they should get a piece of Emma before she was killed. She stiffened once again, unconsciously trying to yank her arm out of Jones' grasp.

"The crowd has spoken," Blackbeard interrupted, nodding once at a pirate standing next to Robin. The pirate responded in turn to his captain by delivering a swift quick to Robin's stomach, sending him face-down onto the dirt in a scream of agony. The pirate raised his sword, and Emma's stomach flipped when she realized his intentions.

"No! Stop! Take me instead!" Emma found herself shouting, but her interruption was enough for the pirate to hesitate in his murder. Blackbeard slowly turned to face her, his eyebrows raised in slight surprise but the corners of his mouth curling into a cruel smirk.

"And tell me, lass, why would we kill you first?"

"You don't have to kill any of us. My parents. They're rich. My father's a noble. They'll pay a very heavy ransom for my safe return."

Blackbeard's eyes lit up at the promise of such a large amount of gold, but he acted almost carefree, or so it seemed to Emma.

"My only condition is that you let them go free," Emma continued, maintaining eye contact with Blackbeard even with the awkward position of her head leaning back due to the dagger at her throat.

Blackbeard stayed silent, either seriously contemplating the offer or merely toying with her emotions.

"If you are who you say you are, that is, the daughter of a noble man, what is a lady like you serving rum to pirates in a tavern?" Blackbeard finally said, and a murmur started to spread across his crew.

"I wanted some freedom," Emma answered immediately, her response not being a complete lie. "It was only my first night. Ask Jones."

Blackbeard's eyes shifted to the pirate holding her captive, and Emma felt it when he nodded his head once. "Aye, it was her first night as a bar wench, Captain."

Blackbeard smirked. "Well, I hope you enjoyed your freedom while it lasted, lass, because you've got yourself a deal."

No sooner had he said that then a burly pirate stepped forward and grabbed her free arm, wrapping a piece of rope from his belt around it. Jones released her other hand and removed the dagger from her throat to allow his crewmate to bind her other hand.

"Gag her too, boys. I don't wanna hear her complaining all the way back to the ship," Blackbeard shouted, his order met with laughs and jeers from the crew as a dirty rag was stuffed into her mouth and tied around the back of her head. She was turned around and lifted onto someone's shoulder, her hands resting along the pirate's back as the crew started to walk back to the docks where their ship was. Emma managed to keep her eyes downcast the entire time, but at the last minute, she looked up, her heart nearly snapping in two at the sight of Little John and Robin Hood, both wounded and sitting next to each other on the forest floor, watching her being taken captive by Blackbeard and his crew.

* * *

"Well, welcome to _The Queen Anne's Revenge,"_ Blackbeard announced as Emma was dropped unceremoniously onto the deck by the pirate who was carrying her. She glared at him, the rag still tied around the back of her head, effectively gagging her. The pirate merely grunted in response, raising his boot up to her hip and shoving her gently so that she toppled over onto her side, earning some jeers and laughs from the rest of the crew who were watching the spectacle.

She locked her jaw the best she could and tried to tune out the calls of the pirates. She was a princess, and while she may not be anywhere close to the perfection that her sister was, she still had some pride that Blackbeard and his crew wouldn't take away. She sure as hell wasn't going to make their kidnap of her an easy one.

For having her hands tied in front of her and having pins and needles in her legs due to being carried over someone's shoulder for so long, Emma quite gracefully pushed herself onto her knees and then onto her feet, maintaining eye contact with Blackbeard the entire time. His smile had slowly disappeared as soon as she started to move, and by the time she was on her feet, a scowl had completely replaced his smirk. The crew was silent now; no one dared to laugh, jeer, or even cough. All eyes were on a defiant Emma and a displeased Blackbeard.

"On your knees, girl. Prisoners should bow for the captain. Ain't that right, lads?" Blackbeard finally said, his voice dripping with venom at Emma and authority at his crew. The pirates responded with a cheer, but the tension was still high.

When Emma didn't make any movement except to raise her chin higher, the crew grumbled among themselves. Out of the corner of her eye, Emma spotted Jones leaning against the railing of the ship, his black hair dancing in the wind, his jaw shifting in frustration, and his blue eyes glued to her.

"I said kneel," Blackbeard growled, and without a warning, he grabbed Emma's shoulder and thrust her to the ground, sending a jolt of pain up each of her knees. She yelped in pain, hoping the gag in her mouth muffled the sound so that none of the pirates saw the paper-thin crack in her defiance.

Her hopes were in vain because Blackbeard chuckled as he wrapped a meaty hand around her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "Sorry, lass," he said insincerely, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Thought you'd be used to spending time on your knees."

The crew watching them lost it at that, cheering and urging their captain on. Emma rolled her eyes, feeling fear pool in her stomach at the way Blackbeard narrowed his eyes at her.

"Perhaps you will learn to quell your little rebellious streak after a night in the brig with no food. Savvy, lass?" Blackbeard sneered at her, and Emma felt herself inching backwards, but she willed her body to stop moving and for her eyes to maintain contact with the pirate captain's. "Take her out of my sight."

Emma felt two pirates move to her side, each one grabbing an arm and pulling her backwards towards one of the hatches. She struggled, knowing it was useless to do so but not wanting to give them the satisfaction of breaking her spirit so easily. She flailed her legs and screamed into the gag, putting up as much of a fight as she could, but the men easily dragged her to one of the hatches and down the stairs.

Immediately, Emma noticed the difference in the atmosphere. Though there were portholes scattered throughout the brig, they offered little to no daylight, the only source of light coming from a single lantern that looked rusty and unkempt. There were two large cells opposite of each other, both reeking of salt and complete with puddles of water scattered throughout the area.

Her handlers opened one of the cells, shoving her inside roughly so that she stumbled and nearly tripped over the hem of her dress. The rag was ripped out of her mouth, and she moved her stiff jaw around gently as the door swung closed behind her, and one of the pirates locked it.

"Be good now, lassie, and the Captain may just let you come up on deck tonight and play with the crew," one of them jeered as the other snickered.

Emma glared at their backs as they left, wanting more than anything in this moment to be able to grab one of their swords and heroically duel her way out of the brig and off this ship. She watched the two pirates thump each other on the back as if they had just single-handedly won the Ogre Wars as they walked up the stairs back to the deck, laughing about having an extra share of ale tonight because of the promise of a ransom.

Being alone was fine for a few minutes. But being alone meant that Emma had the opportunity to think about what had actually happened over the last twenty-four hours.

She had run away from home.

She had spent the night as a tavern wench.

She had been kidnapped by pirates and was now being held for ransom.

Mia. Mia was dead.

Emma felt her throat close up at the last thought, and she inhaled deeply in an effort to null the panicked feeling that was quickly overwhelming her mind. A sob escaped her throat, and, as if that sob was giving the rest of her emotions permission, tears began to flow down Emma's face, staining her cheeks and stinging her eyes.

She thought of home, but just the vision of the castle was enough to make her cry even harder. She pictured Emeline perfectly poised in an armchair in the library, reading a book and sharing all of the heroic scenes with Baelfire. He would smile and make a comment about how their son would make a perfect knight, and Emeline would shake her head and gently swat him with the book, arguing that he would be a strong prince for the kingdom.

She pictured her parents standing in the throne room, arms open for Emma to run into. She could almost smell her mother's lavender-scented hair and hear her father's deep, good-natured laugh. She used to be so close with her father; he would play hide-and-seek with her around the palace, throwing her over his shoulder whenever he found her. He would let her stand on his toes while he waltzed them around the room during the occasional ball. And both of them were well-known partners in crime for raiding the kitchen for late-night delicacies.

But then the Evil Queen had declared war, and her father was swept up into kingly war duties, consequently ignoring his youngest daughter. Emma knew he didn't mean to, but the rejection still hurt her ten-year-old self. Thankfully, Emma took solace in Aria, and the two developed a wonderful bond during the dark times of war in the kingdom.

The war with the Evil Queen lasted almost a decade before Emeline led a raid on the Queen's castle and defeated her with her light magic. Regina was stripped of her magic and locked away by Emma's parents, a fate worse than death, according to her mother.

Emma finally thought things would go back to normal, especially when it was announced that a ball was to be thrown to celebrate Regina's defeat. But that was the ball where Emeline met Baelfire, and the courting began. A few months later, Baelfire asked for Emeline's hand, and the announcement was followed a week later with the news that the eldest daughter of the King and Queen was with child.

Emma expected her parents to be furious that her sister had shared a man's bed before marriage, but quite the opposite reaction ensued. Another ball was thrown to celebrate Emeline and Baelfire, and just like that, Emma became the forgotten princess.

And for that reason, she didn't regret running away. But she wasn't too crazy about being kidnapped and locked away in a brig on a pirate ship either. All she had wanted to do was start over, create a whole new life as Ella. How did things go so wrong in one night?

Emma didn't realize how long she had been crying, nor did she realize that she had curled herself up in the corner of the cell, but her thought process was broken by the sound of the hatch slamming open above her.

Footsteps sounded from the brig entrance, and Emma barely moved her head, weak from crying and frozen in fear, though she'd do her best to hide the latter.

A pair of boots came into view, followed by leather pants, a loose black shirt that was nearly halfway unbuttoned, and a familiar smirk.

"Hello, love."

Emma ignored him, turning her gaze to the dark wall decorated with water droplets. She had counted twenty-three before he spoke again.

"What? No snarky comment? Ir declaration of gratitude for my presence?"

Emma rolled her eyes, knowing fully well that he couldn't see her. She heard him sigh, and then the sound of metal clanging reached her ears. She visibly jumped when a hand gripped her shoulder and spun her entire body around to face him.

"There's that beautiful face." She could almost hear the smugness in his tone.

"What do you want, Jones?" Emma cursed silently at how thick her voice sounded from crying.

"Just come to check on your wellbeing."

Emma let out a dry laugh. "Oh, so you're a gentleman now?"

"I'm always a gentleman." He winked, and Emma rolled her eyes again. "You keep rolling your eyes like that, darling, and they'll get stuck like that. And that'd be a rotten shame to never see those beautiful eyes of yours again, love."

"Do you always flirt with your prisoners?"

"Just the pretty ones."

"You're disgusting."

"Pirate."

Emma huffed, torn between wanting him to move away from her before she punched him or to stay exactly where he was. His body heat had begun to radiate off him in waves, curing the goosebumps that had formed under her thin, ripped dress. His knees occasionally knocked into her arm, and each hit seemed to send a jet of fire across her ice-cold skin.

"You never answered my question."

"I wasn't lying before, love. I came to check on you."

"Here's the thing. There's not a lot I'm great at in life, but I have one skill. Let's call it a superpower. I can tell when anyone is lying. And you, pirate, are not telling the whole truth. What are you down here for? Orders from your captain to get information out of me?" Emma scoffed.

"He didn't exactly tell me to come down here. But he never directly forbade it either."

"Look, just tell me what you want or leave me alone."

"Just thought you'd like some new clothes and good company, love. Your dress isn't it in the best shape."

"I don't want them," Emma spat, not missing a beat but inwardly wincing at how childish she sounded. Her mother would be very disappointed in her diplomatic skills right now.

"Let me rephrase that." His voice had lost all hints of flirtiness and cordiality and had turned hard and authoritative, prompting Emma to break her staring contest with her knees and look back up at him. "Take the clothes and change or I'll take the dress, and you can remain bare until we receive our ransom. Your choice, darling, but you best choose soon. My patience is wearing thin."

She glared at him, willing him to burst into flames with just the lethal combination of hatred and venom in her eyes. To his credit, he didn't break the eye contact with her, instead smirking and lifting one of his eyebrows in a manner that irritated Emma to her very core.

"I'll take the clothes," she finally conceded, clenching her jaw so as to not accidently let slip a word that was rather constant in Grumpy's daily vocabulary.

"Pity," he said, widening his smirk as he thrust the clothes into her still-tied hands. She latched her fingers around the bundle eagerly, not wanting them to fall onto the dirty floor of the brig.

"You know," he said when Emma didn't respond. "We don't take many hostages aboard. You should feel special.

Emma felt her jaw slacken and eyes widen comically. "Thank you," she forced out through gritted teeth. It was taking all of her willpower to not roll her eyes at this man for the third time in ten minutes, but he was really pushing his luck.

The words were clearly a dismissal, but the pirate stayed exactly where he was, crouching in front of her, knees brushing her arms, effectively trapping her in the corner of the cell.

"You can go now."

"You don't need help changing, love?"

Emma sucked in her cheeks, biting them harshly as she felt a scream build up in her throat. He winked at her, reaching into his boot to pull out a sharp dagger.

"Give me your hands."

"No," Emma pulled her hands closer to her body, squishing the clothing between her chest and her bound wrists.

This time, Jones was the one rolling his eyes as he grabbed her left forearm and yanked her towards him, slicing through her binds with the knife.

"Try something new, darling. It's called trust."

"Like I'll ever trust a pirate," she spat, pushing as much venom as she could into the words, rubbing the burns on her wrist left by the coarse rope.

He finally stood up, and Emma, assuming he was leaving her alone, let out a small sigh of relief. Unexpectedly, she felt his hand grab onto her left forearm again and hoist her to her feet.

"Let go of me!" She began to thrash around wildly, but Jones only tightened his grip on her arm and grabbed onto the other one to keep her under control, causing Emma to cry out in pain.

She froze as soon as she heard the sound leave her mouth, seeing the pirate furrow his eyebrows before glancing down to her arms in confusion. Slowly, he removed his hands. In the dim light provided by the dated lantern, there was the unmistakable stain of blood on his right hand.

Both of their gazes shifted from his hand to her arm, where the angry scratch she had acquired from the alley fight had opened up and began to bleed, ruining her dress even more.

"You're hurt," he said, almost managing to sound concerned.

"Yeah, no thanks to you and the rest of those bloody pirates." She made to tug her arms back to hug the clothes tight to her chest and free them from being lodged under her armpit, but he quickly latched onto her right arm, glaring hard at the wound.

"Why didn't you say you were hurt?"

"Because that would have mattered," she scoffed, finally succeeding in yanking her arm back to her body.

"Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"Why? Scared if I'm too damaged you won't get your ransom? Or are you-."

"Are. You. _Hurt."_ Emma jumped at the hard and final tone to his voice, and before she could stop herself, she was telling him about the glass shards still in her left palm.

Jones sighed, pushing Emma down so that she was sitting again and he was kneeling in front of her, resting on his heels. He took the clothes from her paralyzed hands and draped them over his shoulder, ignoring her weak protests and, instead, unhooking a flask from his pants. He took a swig of whatever was inside before pouring the rest over her hand and arm. She yelped as the liquid stung at her open cuts.

"Shit! A little warning next time."

"I highly doubt you'll persuade me to waste rum on your injuries a second time. But these will get infected if left untreated."

"Gee, it almost seems like you care, Jones."

He didn't respond, clenching his jaw as he ripped two strips of fabric from the bottom of his shirt, wrapping one around her hand and the other around her arm, tying them tighter than Emma thought was necessary.

"Change your clothes," he said, swiftly standing up and tossing the clothes back at her, barely giving her time to blink before he was out of her cell, locking the door behind him. In mere seconds, he was gone, and Emma was alone save for her new clothes and her still-stinging wounds.

* * *

When Baelfire first took up residence at the castle while courting Emeline, he had shared stories of his voyages at sea as a prince fulfilling his diplomatic duties. One of the recurring features of his tales that always stuck with Emma was how creepy and old the ship was at night.

She didn't really believe his stories until now. Emma knew a few members of the crew still had to be awake, but it was eerie not to hear their heavy footsteps above deck or hear echoes of them shouting to one another. The moon's light was useless to Emma in the brig, so the only thing she had to see with was the lantern that looked about ready to die out at any second. She kept shivering, and it wasn't long before she found herself huddled back in her corner, hands wrapped tightly around her knees and her dress acting as a makeshift pillow so she could lean her head against the wall.

The clothes Jones brought her weren't too bad, but they were still no match for the chill of the pirate ship at night. Emma could feel the hairs on the back of her neck and her arms standing straight up, and shivers constantly wracked through her body.

When Jones had left, Emma wasted no time in peeling off the dress and replacing it with the pirate garb in case someone else on the crew decided to pay her an unexpected visit. The breeches were a perfect fit on her, and Emma had wondered briefly why a woman's clothing would be on board a pirate ship, but then she remembered the smug smiles and suggestive comments of the crew and decided that she'd rather not know the answer. The shirt was a loose white top that slipped down her shoulders a bit, exposing her collarbone. He hadn't given her a corset, but she'd used her own from her previous outfit. What had made the pile, stuffed between the breeches and shirt as if put there on accident, was a red hat, which Emma now tugged lower in an attempt to cover her ears.

Her braid was more like a giant knot after the fight and the kidnap, so Emma decided to let her hair down in untidy waves, slipping the hair band onto her wrist and wishing more than anything for a comb. The only accessories Emma had were a couple hair clips that had been used to keep her braid intact and Emeline's necklace, the swan pendant hidden from view underneath the neckline of her shirt.

Her stomach growled, and with a start, she realized the last time she had eaten or drank anything was when Aria had introduced her to Mia and they had asked the woman for help in disguising Emma. She clenched her teeth together, willing them to stop chattering enough for her to possibly doze off and distract herself from her aching hunger and thirst.

It must have worked because the next thing she knew, she was jerking awake to the sound of the hatch slamming. Emma froze, waiting for someone to appear at the bottom of the staircase, but when no one came, she took the opportunity to try and massage the kinks out of her neck.

It was still nighttime out, but the lantern had been re-lit, allowing Emma to catch sight of a plate and cup right inside the very entrance to her cell. There was only a thin slice of bread and a small apple on it, along with a small cup of fresh water, but Emma's stomach flipped as soon as she registered that it was real food.

She nearly lunged at the plate, not even realizing that there was something around her shoulders until her hand touched a scratchy fabric. She frowned, twisting until she realized someone had come in and covered her with a blanket while she slept fitfully.

Emma eyed the food once more, her hand slowly twisting the ends of the blanket around her fingers. Pride and circumstances aside, she had a certain blue-eyed first mate to thank the next time she saw him.


End file.
